Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow. The doctor laughed. "You don't recollect me, I presume?" premised the stranger, taking a seat. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. 1. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth.
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